Killer alligators in 1898 tale could have been early ‘fake news’

An engraving, which ran in The San Antonio Light in 1899, depicts an alleged event of an alligator attack at Lake Espontas, near San Antonio, in 1898, which may have been one of the first "fake news" reports. At least one news account claimes Paul Nagele and family were attacked by a number of alligators. Two children died. His wife was injured. Using an axe, Nagele drove off the reptiles, killing three and wounding five more.

Can you shed any light on an alligator attack which took place at Lake Espontas, near San Antonio, circa 1898? A report, which appeared in the Motherwell Times (a Scottish newspaper) in May of that year, gave the following particulars: Paul Nagele and family were attacked by a number of alligators. Two children died. His wife was injured. Using an ax, Nagele drove off the assailants, killing three and wounding five more. Any help would be appreciated.

David Black

This story went viral among English-language newspapers in North America and the United Kingdom from May to August 1899. Like a print game of Telephone, the narrative picked up changes and typos as it was reprinted across the continent and beyond, frequently citing other newspapers as its source. Typically, the name of the locale is misrepresented as “Espontos Lake in Dimmitt County” instead of Espantosa Lake in Dimmit County. The protagonist is identified as Paul R. Naegele of San Antonio, although his occupation and the names of his wife and children are omitted.

The long-form tale says the couple and their children were camping on the shores of the lake, despite warnings. During the night, Naegele “was aroused by the restlessness of his horses.” When he went to see what was spooking them, he took an ax, “thinking some wild animal might be worrying them.” Stepping on what he thinks is a log, “The jaws of a gigantic alligator snapped at him.”

Naegele hit the alligator in the head with his ax, which only stunned the beast. He heard his wife scream and ran to her assistance, finding that “Another enormous alligator had seized their eldest child, a girl of four years, and was moving away with its victim in its jaws.” Her mother tore at the alligator’s eyes with her fingers, while Naegele whacked it with the ax until the creature “knocked him down with a swish of its tail.”

In the melee, the mother dropped the baby she was carrying, and another alligator grabbed it. Naegele was unconscious while his wife struggled with the second gator, which wounded her badly in the leg. While both parents were rendered helpless, “The reptiles moved quickly away with their child victims and disappeared in the foul waters of the lake.”

The story concludes that the gators “had just awakened from their winter torpor and found a great lack of their customary food (and) eagerly snatched the first victims they could find.”

The alligator attack story ran in newspapers in Ohio, New York and Montana; Manitoba, Canada; and even England. The Victoria Advocate gave it a San Antonio dateline.

The story sometimes appears with an engraving imagining the tragic scene, captioned with a line from the story: “Their horrible hissing fills the air, and the odor of musk which arises is so strong that one can smell it three miles.”

There’s more than a whiff of shadiness about this story, as recognized by the San Antonio Light, June 25, 1899, which ascribes the story to the New York Journal, June 11, 1899, “received this morning by Mayor (Marshall) Hicks.” This reprint is headed “How the New York Journal advertises Texas” and starts with a unique introduction: “Being under date of San Antonio, it is considered a very brilliant Munchausenism,” referring to the syndrome of faking illness or injury to gain sympathy.

No one named Paul Naegele turns up in an Ancestry search until many years after the events of the story. San Antonio Conservation Society Librarian Beth Standifird checked city directories from 1897 to 1900. “There was no Paul Naegele, Nagele or Nagel,” she says. “There wasn’t anyone at all with a last name matching the first two spellings.”

Espantosa Lake — “scary” in Spanish — is real, a small oxbow lake formed from an old bend of the Nueces River, 5 miles northeast of Carrizo Springs in north central Dimmit County. A Texas state historical marker placed in 1936 calls it the “most famous camping ground on Presidio Road — earliest route between Texas and Coahuila.”

Once a popular watering hole and camping spot on the Spanish colonial-era trail between Texas and the rest of Mexico, the gloomy, fog-prone lake is a legend magnet. There’s one where a woman camping with her family goes to the lake to wash clothes, screams and is never seen again, but for the ripple made by a disappearing gator’s tail. Her ghostly screams are supposed to haunt the lake.

Another Espantosa story starts with a traveling couple. When the pregnant wife goes into labor, her husband rides off for help and persuades someone to come back to the lake with him. In the morning, they find his wife — mauled, dead and with wolf tracks all around … but no baby. Later, there are sightings of a mysterious wolf girl, eventually morphing into the ghost of a wolf girl.

Then there’s the one immortalized by pioneer Texas folklorist J. Frank Dobie, about a treasure-laden wagon disappearing into a sinkhole — valuables, freighters, horses and all.

Whether the creepy lake is bad luck is debatable, but the 1899 alligators could have been real. “Alligator distribution in Texas includes that area, so yes, it is possible,” says Jonathan Warner, alligator program leader for the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department.

Was there a Paul Naegele, perhaps by some other spelling, and did he fake the alligator event, as the Light seems to suggest? Or was it just a compelling yarn with international appeal? Anyone who has information about Naegele or the alleged attack may contact this column.